


Lost Inhaler

by JaredTheAsshole



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Author is too lazy to fill all these out, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, he will eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaredTheAsshole/pseuds/JaredTheAsshole
Summary: They didn't lose Georgie Denbrough that October. They lost Eddie Kaspbrak.-------------------------"Come on, Eddie! I wanna sail her!" Georgie called up, glee lacing his childish voice."Duty calls," He said, standing up and waving to Bill before heading on downstairs. He made Georgie wait just a few more minutes, slipping on his own coat and boots. No matter what, he refused to get sick the way Bill had. Falling into a puddle without rain gear.By this time, the rain started to pick up again.





	1. Chapter 1

Bill was sick. Eddie was well aware of that matter. The flu that kept his friend confined to the bed made Eddie hesitate to even come over. Of course, it beat hanging out with his mother during yet another rainy day. Thankfully, the worse of the flooding is over, and only a few more streets had the wide streams of water which ran along sidewalks. 

So here he was, standing in the doorway of Bill's room, waiting for Georgie to return from the trip to the cellar. Bill was at his desk, coughing every couple of moments, writing with a pen on the carefully folded boat. Eddie couldn't help but smile at the focused look on the other boy's face. Big Bill was truly his best friend. They hung out together more one on one than with the others. Sure, Georgie butted his way in a lot, but Eddie didn't complain. Bill loved Georgie, Georgie loved Bill. The way brothers should. And Eddie loved to watch it. Never having any siblings of his own, he never experienced what it was the Denbrough boys had. At least, with a blood relative. But being around Big Bill often brought brotherly love from the short hypochondiac's chest. Being around the two felt like being around brothers.

A rough cough from Bill snapped Eddie from his thoughts, and concern and worry clouded his mind. He had everything ready to help Bill in his fannypack, but even still. If he approached, or worse, made contact, with his sick friend, who knows what he can catch. The flu, AIDs? Worrying, which was silly, he knew, was all he had grown up on.

"W-Where is h-h-he?" Bill finally muttered, picking up the Supercomm and radioing Georgie. The six year old's voice crackled through the talkie, and Eddie could hear the door slam shut just moments after, followed by heavy, small foot falls. Georgie bustled into the room with the wax, hightailing over to Billy and handing over the tin. Eddie took a breath before following, staying far away enough to be less on edge with Bill's coughing, but close enough to watch.

Georgie was practically leaning off of Bill's chair, watching his older brother was he applied the wax onto the S.S. Georgie with his brush. The six year old was bouncing with excitement, rocking the chair just barely. It let out small noises of protest.  
_Squeak. Squeak. Squeak._

Despite the low volume of the chair, it drowned out the piano music playing from downstairs. Eddie closed his eyes, just focusing on the soft murmurs of the Denbrough brothers and the squeaking. It followed the same rhythm of the raindrops falling from the house's gutter when he had arrived just an hour prior to this time.  
_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Eddie snapped out of his thoughts when he felt pressure on his leg, met face to face with Georgie Denbrough. The young boy was smiling up at him, a little shyly, hope gleaming in his blue eyes. Blue eyes, just like Bill's.  
"Alright, go get on your slicker and galoshes," He said softly, running a hand through the dark blonde hair. Georgie nodded, running off with the S.S. Georgie, determined to get dressed up in record time. Bill blew his nose into a tissue, throwing it without any real aim into the trashcan.

"A-Are you sure y-yuh-you're fine taking h-him? He c-ca-ca-can go on his own, E-Eddie," Bill said, raising an eyebrow at the hypochondriac.

"Of course I am. Someone has to make sure he stays in his rain clothes. And you can't do that, Mr. sneeze and cough," He smiled at Big Bill, finally reaching over and resting a hand on top of his best friend's. Billy returned the smile with his own, both boys snapped out of it from the call downstairs.

"Come on, Eddie! I wanna sail her!" Georgie called up, glee lacing his childish voice.

"Duty calls," He said, standing up and waving to Bill before heading on downstairs. He made Georgie wait just a few more minutes, slipping on his own coat and boots. No matter what, he refused to get sick the way Bill had. Falling into a puddle without rain gear. 

By this time, the rain started to pick up again.

Eddie stopped, standing on the porch of the Denbrough house as Georgie rushed past, his Supercomm sounding with Bill's voice. A short, but well advised message.

"Be careful."

The hypochondriac watched Georgie wave up, towards the top floor of the house. Probably at Bill's window, before taking off down the street. Eddie took that as his cue, and starting after the running six year old. He watched Georgie put his boat into the formed stream, moving so fast it had mini white rapids. He and Georgie kept up with her as the S.S. Georgie sailed down Witcham Street, the puddle littering the sidewalk splashing under their boots. 

However, Eddie cut short, for Georgie stepped off to run along the other side of his boat. In the street. He didn't see the sawhorse, portraying the words of Derry Publicworks. Eddie hurried over to Georgie, attempting to check his head where it had hit. But the six year old fought him off, instead yelling, because there goes the boat.

"No!" Georgie exclaimed, hurrying to his feet and really rushing after the paper thing. Eddie followed suit, not for the boat, but for concern for the youngest Denbrough. While Eddie and Bill shared a brotherly bond, it only was a matter of time before it extended to Georgie too. Eddie always helped Bill look after his little brother, especially when his parents were out. Eddie helped Georgie with his homework, read to him, and played whatever game the young child wanted.

"No..!" Repeated, softer this time. Eddie took notice of where they were just as the S.S. Georgie went straight down into a drain.

"Bill's gonna kill me..." Georgie said, a soft whine in his voice. The six year old had started his way down to his hands and knees, ready to look in for his boat. Eddie wasn't having it.

"Georgie, no, come here," He said, pulling the boy back up, and up onto the sidewalk. "I'll find the boat, ok? You just stay right here. Bill won't be mad if we can't get it, alright?"

Georgie gave a small nod, bottom lip quivering.

The small, yet older boy, began his own way down, on his knees from, then allowing the rough feel of road dig into his palms as he stared into the drain. From the shadows, a flash of two blue dots appeared. Eddie didn't have time to reel back when suddenly a clown was right in his face, holding the S.S. Georgie.

The irony, seeing as Georgie had only done this minutes before, in the warmth of Bill's room.  
Here? It was nothing but cold, and the air, it was thick with fear.

"Aren't cha going to say hello?" 

The sickening voice of the clown, cheerful, yet rough, a sort of dull screech, met Eddie's ears. His brown eyes picked up the flash of movement above the drain, the very drain where this thing was, the yellow of Georgie's slicker-

Georgie. Eddie wheezed softly. Something was screaming at him. Not from his chest, not from any of his surroundings. Not from either the clown or the child. But from the core of space itself. Encased in some nebula of darkness. It was screaming at him to get Georgie Denbrough away from this clown. 

"H-Hi..." He managed to choke out from his ragged breathing, staring at the clown with wide, scared brown eyes. The thing's blue eyes seemed to flash in delight, almost turning yellow? Was he imagining that? Was he imagining this whole being?  
"Would you like your boat back?" It asked, raising the paper boat up just slightly, making the words more visible. Eddie knew better, a feeling to not reach down into that drain.  
"Or maybe, a balloon?" The clown said, a red balloon floating upwards in the drain as well.

 _Play innocent, Eddie._ It was time to break in the code words the Denbrough brothers taught him. They had phrases or words to tell each other unspoke commands.

"Why're you down in there?" He asked, doing his best to sound curious. Georgie was there, staring down at Eddie. He felt the boy's gaze.  
"The storm blew me away. Blew the whole circus away. Do you like the circus, Eddie?" It taunted, still a cheerful screech. Eddie's breath hitched.

He never told It his name.

"Yeah, I-I like the ice cream a lot." He said, stuttering just barely from the way his lungs tightened in his chest.

"My favorite is the popcorn. Because of the way it pops! Pop, pop!" It beamed, a sinister look in It's blue eyes.

" _Wowza!_ " Eddie said, a bit loudly. He knew Georgie understood the word well enough. Run. Get Bill.

Eddie drops the act the moment Georgie had made it all the way down the street, almost back to his house. He stared at the clown, biting his lip and glancing at the boat. The same force was now screaming at him, telling the hypochondriac to run himself. Just like Georgie. He couldn't yet. He had to distract It as long as possible. To keep him from the boy still running. Slowly, one hand unzipped his nearly exploding fannypack. Just in case this is his last known location, he will leave a clue. Not for the police. Not for his mother. For the other Losers.

"Can I have my boat? I need to go back..." He whispered, feeling like he said his famous last words.

"Take it." The clown said, eyes most definitely yellow now. They were like staring into tiny fires. Infernos from the deepest pit of Hell, right in It's eyes. The boat was far down, down enough he'd have to reach his arm in. The disgust wasn't nearly as present as the fear.

Eddie took a deep breath, reaching down into the gutter slowly.  
The clown moved at lightning fast speed, pain darting up his side.

A scream howled into the downpour.

Eddie Kaspbrak was no longer there, kneeling by a drain on Witcham Street.

All that remained was washing away blood, and several pill bottles, their contents scattering across the asphalt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well this is a start. to angst. and maybe some love. but mostly angst.
> 
> anyway, our boy is gone. but, the slicker kid managed to escape his fate.


	2. Tricking Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill remembers what happened in October. 
> 
> Eddie Kaspbrak is not dead.

**He wasn't dead. Why the hell wasn't Eddie Kaspbrak dead? The clown had dragged him in. Why didn't it kill him? Oh. That's right. It couldn't kill him because-**

Bill sat up quickly in bed, shaking as thunder crashed outside. Blue eyes adjusted to the darkness and quickly flicked over towards the window. Rain pitter-pattered against the glass, a sound like pebbles being thrown by a friend, or a love. However, Bill never thought of that when it rained. No, he thought of blood. Of spilled medications. Of his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak. It was his fault. He didn't talk Eddie out of going with Georgie. However, Bill felt as though his friend had done his family a great service. Perhaps, if Eddie had stayed with a sick Bill, Georgie would've met the same fate the small boy had.

Bill remembered it, the way Georgie had bursted into the house, soaking wet, slightly muddy, crocodile tears adding to his damp cheeks, and loud sobs adding to the thunderous wind and pounding rain.

_“MOMMY, DADDY!" Georgie had screeched, still crying.  
The piano abruptly stopped, and hurried footsteps from the parlor and Zack Denbrough's office sounded, hurrying to reach the sobbing six year old. Bill heard it too. He was at the top of the stairs, eyes wide, gazing down as his parents comforted his little brother._

_The detail that popped out to him, however, wasn't the paper of the boat missing. But an entire body, of his friend. Eddie wasn't there. He snapped out of it just in time to hear Georgie._

_"My boat f-fell into a drain, a-and Eddie told me to stay put so he could try and get it!" Georgie exclaimed, nearly screaming through his tears to get the story out of his tiny body. "Then a v-voice came from the drain, a-and Eddie told me to run! S-So I did!"_

_Bill stared, blood rushing through his veins. Cold. Eddie was out there still. He was alone. Oh God, what if he got stuck? What if someone took him?_

**_What if, What if, What if._ **

Bill's memories tore away, his blue eyes turning to stare out the window. Rain was pouring down now, just like that day. Less than a year ago, sure. But with school soon to let out, his friends and him will have much more time to search for their missing hypochondriac. He sighed, turning over in bed. Bill pulled the blankets closer, remembering what had happened after.

_Bill ran down and into the kitchen, past his startled parents, past a still sniffling Georgie, straight to the phone. He dialed, who did he dial. Richie. Richie Tozier._

_"Bill, what the fuck man? You know I got a fuck ton of homework and my dad will kill me if I don’t-”_

_"Eddie's g-gone."_

_"... What?"_

_"H-He's gone, Richie. Georgie c-came home crying and s-sah-saying Eddie was talking t-to a voice in the drain. H-He isn't back yet."_

_"..."_

_The voice on the other end was silent. No comments. There was just barely the sound of Richie's breathing that told Bill he hadn't hung up._

_"R-Ruh-Richie...?" He asked hesitantly._

_"Call Stan, I'll be over in ten minutes." The voice of Richie crackled through the phone._

_It was a deadpan tone. No emotion, not even another joke. As if Richie Tozier knew something, as if Trashmouth knew-_

**Eddie Kaspbrak isn't dead. By all legal means, he is. No body, no trace of him running away. Just the pills and blood that had dried on the drain lip. February 19th, 1989, was the call off of the search for Eddie. His mother was in hysterics, threatening the authorities. His friends, angry and devastated. By the time May rolled around, he was announced legally dead. But. Eddie Kaspbrak isn't dead.**

_Richie had hung up._

_Stan was next. Bill called him up and explained the same thing. However, he could tell by the Jewish boy's voice he wasn't gonna believe it as quickly as Richie did._

_"Bill, Georgie is six. He's probably making it up..."_

_"E-Explain why E-E-Eh-ddie hasn't come back y-yet, and why is G-Juh-Georgie sobbing?"_

_"Come on. We all know even Eddie isn't past pulling pranks. He probably got Georgie in on it. Kaspbrak probably headed home," Stan said._

_Bill sighed, glancing through the door frame. His mom and dad calmed Georgie, and were leading him up the stairs now. He closed his eyes, face scrunching up._

_"Even Georgie isn't that g-guh-good of an actor, S-St-Stan."_

_There was a pause, heavy upon the line. There was a thickness in the air, both in Bill's house and Stan's. Finally, the Jew let out a sigh, crackling slightly over the phone._

_"Alright. I'll be over soon to help you look. I promise.”_

By now, Bill has risen from his bed, pacing quietly around his room. On his dresser was a framed photo of the four of them. He moved closer, an outstretched hand picking it up in a shaking grip. It was in front of the Barrens. From left to right, it was Richie, Eddie, himself, and Stan. 

They were all wearing shorts and short sleeved shirts. Their shirts were damp, as though the boys had been splashing around. The photo was from the summer before Eddie disappeared.

Bill felt a sour smile spread across his face as he stared at his framed self and his best friends. Richie was grinning  


(Not at all like the smile he wore today)

Pinching the Kaspbrak boy's right cheek. Stan had a deadpan expression, but even the photo revealed the joy his eyes held.  


(That joy was no longer there)

Bill himself had been laughing at the mini war between Trashmouth and Eddie, his mouth open in probably a bellow of laughter as the picture was taken.  


(He had forgotten what laughter felt like)

Eddie was glaring in the picture. His brown eyes held a brimming hatred for Richie, his arms halfway raised to shove Tozier away. His hair was messed up as well. Bill remembered Richie had ruffled the short boy's hair before the picture.

The older Denbrough sighed, placing the frame back on the dresser. Suddenly, lightning illuminated his room, followed by the clap of thunder. His hand slipped, knocking the picture down. Glass shattered.

Bill widened his eyes, reaching down and grabbing the frame, wincing as glass scraped his fingers. His eyesight adjusted again to the dark, and he checked the picture. His heart stopped.

Eddie was gone, the other three boys frozen in the same position, an empty space between Richie and Bill. He stood, shaking, gaze glued to the photo, even as blood dripped from his finger, and landed where Eddie used to be.

\------------

You'd think being dragged into a storm drain would be painful. Probably end up with a missing arm, right? Not in Eddie's case. He didn't remember the exact detail, the clown, pain, rows of fangs, rain pouring down. 

When Eddie woke, it was silent. Not a patter of rain. Light was also coming in. He groaned, moving to get up. However, that stopped at the feeling of burning pain in his right arm. The small boy let out a hiss, looking down at it with wide, unbelieving eyes.

His arm was bent at an unnatural angle, covered in cuts, scrapes, bruises, teeth marks. Eddie whimpered as he put a little pressure on a wide cut, blood oozing out slowly. His arm was also covered in dried blood. 

He sighed, using his good arm and the wall to heave him to his feet, glancing around. He was on a ledge, about four feet in width, with a sewage stream to his left. The light came in from the storm drain. It was as if he had fallen in. He was right under the storm drain. 

Which meant someone could hear him if he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT
> 
> WHERE HAVE I BEEN.   
> dead  
> at school
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> HAVE A SECOND CHAPTER


	3. Racing Toughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie has to run, from the Bowers Gang. And from his memories.
> 
>  
> 
> Eddie makes first contact with his friends.

**It. What was It? It was much more than a clown. It was much more than a monster. What was It? Why can’t he remember-**

Richie pedalled fast along the street, glasses nearly slipping from his pale face as he heard the car revving behind him. Of course, the day he needed to head into town, Bowers and his gang would find him. 

The dark blue vehicle was playing chase with him. It would rev, speed up, almost on his tail, before slowing again. Belch seemed to be trying to exhaust him. Richie grunted, scanning the upcoming intersection of the town’s roads. Perfect.

The dark haired boy glanced back once, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose before suddenly yanking his handlebars, turning down a slim alley. Richie could hear the car’s horn blast after he left their line of sight, and laughed. 

It was normal, being able to outsmart Bowers’ gang of dumbasses and being able to escape. Remaining out of their way the rest of the week was the hard part. 

While they may be idiots, they could keep a target in mind forever.

He took a moment to take in his surroundings. Richie let out a breath of relief as he recognized where he was. He was in the alleyway between the old antique store and some barber shop. All he’d have to do is cross the street, head down Jackson, and turn onto Witcham. He’d be home free and reaching Bill’s house in no time. 

Richie climbed off his bike, walking it to the edge of the alley with it by his side. Dark curls popped out, turning left and right on the lookout. Belch’s car was nowhere in sight. 

Another sigh of relief. He scurried his way across the street with his bike, practically running on down Jackson street until the corner onto Witcham came up. From there, he climbed back onto his bike, and started pedalling down to Bill’s.

As he rode, Richie unconsciously pushed his glasses back up, focusing on the sidewalks and road in front of him. 

He spaced out as memories from October started surfacing. 

_Richie had slammed his phone down, gathering up his thin jacket. Eddie was gone. Bill said he was gone. What even is gone?_

_Is it missing? Did the short boy finally run from his mother?_

_“Did you finish your homework, Richard?” Wentworth Tozier’s voice called as Richie entered the hall to the front door._

_“Yeah, I’m heading to Bill’s!” He yelled back, running out of his house and slamming the door shut behind him._

_Richie beelined for his bike, hopping on and tearing off down the street. With his speed, he reached Bill’s house in a matter of minutes._

 

A car’s screeching horn tore the dark haired boy out of his trance, prompting a small shout as a van drove towards him.

Richie swiveled his handlebars, the second time this morning, and flew a short distance. He landed on the sidewalk, the bike remaining on the side of the road, next to a storm drain. 

His elbows burned. It prompted a grunt from his mouth as he sat up, pulling his arms forward and checking. Small scrapes and cuts graced each knobby joint. Thankfully his glasses were completely fine.

Richie turned to stare (and perhaps send a bird its way) at the van as it kept driving.

But he froze.

In the back window, a clown was smiling at him with fangs. Nothing else in the car could be seen. Because surrounding the clown were red balloons. 

Richie Tozier barely had time to react to it, however.

Because a scream came from the drain.

\---------------

 

The night Eddie woke from his

**Floating-**

Unconscious state, it began to rain. 

He had remained on the the very edge of his concrete walkway, hands cupped and flying forward to catch the dripping water.

His mouth and throat had been dry as dust ever since he woke up, and while the rain wasn’t clean by any means, it was better than the gray water that ran through the sewage stream. 

Judging by the blocky watch on his wrist (which somehow miraculously survived a murderous clown) he had stood there for a good fifteen minutes to get water.

Eddie backed off after then, hungry, but now hydrated. He settled down on the cold, rough concrete, mindful of his injured, and perhaps broken, arm. He laid silently, staring up at the moonlight creeping in from the storm drain. Rain pitter-pattered onto the street above him, not like at Bill’s.

No, not like at Bill’s house at all. 

This downpour, tumbling down into the stream next to him, was like standing near a small waterfall. It was thunderous.

Somehow, Eddie managed to fall asleep after a good hour of listening.

The next morning, the rain was gone. Eddie grunted, cracking his eyes open and taking a deep breath. He swallowed. His throat was dry again, but not like before.

The short boy took a few minutes to fully wake up. He was aware of the sunshine. An almost peaceful smile made its way onto Eddie’s face.

Almost peaceful.

However, a car horn broke him out of the trance. He remembered where he was.

Eddie got to his feet, eyes widening slightly at the shout that came after. A familiar shout.

_Richie-_

**Eddie Kaspbrak floats-**

There was a grunt a few seconds afterwards. 

**Like a balloon-**

Eddie felt his chest heave, as he took in deep breaths. God, where was his inhaler.

**Like a boat-**

He swallowed again, backing up against the wall. His mouth felt dry. And the feeling of a shout was ripping up his throat.

**Like a puppet on strings**

“RICHIE!” Eddie Kaspbrak screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/stephenking/images/d/dc/Map_of_Derry.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/618?cb=20130810013403
> 
> this is the map of Derry I'm using for this fanfic.


	4. Author

Yo lemme know if ya'll want this one continued too

Edit: ok people want it to go on. Full reboot or continuation of this version?


	5. Again, another update but with actual news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello its me again

So I think I've finally decided upon a schedule for these fics.  
I dunno how many of you are sticking around for Lost Inhaler, or Our Ever After, or a mix of both, but I will be posting this update in both fics so anyone who doesn't read one of these will find it in the other.

So.

Lost Inhaler is coming first. I know some of you are big fans of Sanders Sides and you've enjoyed my fic with it.  
But I don't.

Our Ever After was a messy story I began in 8th Grade. It's sloppy, it's tiring for me to read, it's too short, and it's feeling rushed.  
Lost Inhaler feels only slightly better, but not to the extreme like Our Ever After.

So yeah, Lost Inhaler is going to be the first fic I'm picking up. I've began rewriting the next chapter and, I hope to get it out during my Winter Break, which begins Dec. 21st.  
So yay, be happy IT fans.

Now, Our Ever After. Honestly, I can't find any joy in the chapters already posted? I love Sanders Sides, but the episodes are harder for me to follow than the story of IT.   
So, the entire fic is getting scrapped. I'm gonna attempt to rewrite it but, I doubt it will be posted soon. 

The original fic will remain up until the new version has a few chapters completed. 

Anything else to pay attention to would be, new fics? Now I understand these two I already have has already got people waiting, but

Have you SEEN the Avengers Endgame trailer?  
Yeah, ok, we're getting Marvel fics up in here. Most likely one-shots and short stories, but who knows how far it will go.

 

SO YEAH, uh, we've made it to the end of this update. When Lost Inhaler starts updating all the update chapters will be deleted from the fic. Uhhh, yeah so, just gimme a bit more patience and we'll see how far we can get with this.


End file.
